


Close To Me

by InkgooSupernova



Series: The Winter System [34]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Bucky Barnes has DID - Dissociative Identity Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Disputes, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Insecurity, Kid Bucky Barnes, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Age Play, Points of View, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Sleepy Cuddles, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25035553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkgooSupernova/pseuds/InkgooSupernova
Summary: After blindly feeling around the bed for his guardians, his brain finally caught up with him. They weren't in the room at all.Where was Papa? Where was Daddy?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: The Winter System [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693231
Comments: 26
Kudos: 119





	1. Security

**Author's Note:**

> This story features nightmares, references to death, misunderstandings, and implied parental arguing and trauma.
> 
> Reader Discretion is Advised.
> 
> The story's title is from the song [Close To Me by Sabrepulse.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHC1xiUA2gg)

It started with a jolt.

Jamesy wasn't sure what startled him out of his sleep. What he _did_ know was that there were no bodies next to him in the big, empty bed.

After blindly feeling around the bed for his guardians, his brain finally caught up with him. They weren't in the room at all.

Where was Papa? Where was Daddy?

The sudden panic blooming in his chest was enough to shake the last ounce of sleep out of him, completely awake in the dark, lonely room. He sat up, already terrified as to what could be happening. Was there a break in? Did someone kidnap them? Did Hydra goons shoot them? Did they go on a mission? Were they playing grown up games? Did they abandon him in the tower and run off to marry each other and live happily ever after without him?

What was going on?

Jamesy, now filled to the brim with anxiety and dread, crawled out of the bed in search of his guardians.

He didn't have to look far, as he heard soft whimpers coming from the living room.

His guts plummeted to his feet as images of his guardians going at it on the couch filled his brain. Those types of thoughts were for the Soldier, not _him_. The imagery surely didn't help the gnawing dread building in his chest.

Then he heard a sniffle, followed by a hiccuping sob, and he realized he had jumped to conclusions.

Someone was crying.

 _Why_ were they crying?

Jamesy puffed up his chest and slowly, ever so slowly, pulled the door open to peek into the living room. He could barely make out the silhouettes on the couch, but he could recognize the voices anywhere.

Daddy was whispering. Papa was crying.

 _Papa was crying_.

Jamesy didn't know what to do. Should he go back to bed and not interrupt his guardians? Should he walk out and try to comfort Papa too? Should he just stand in the doorway until someone notices him and tells him what to do? All of those ideas came with the threat of being punished, of being yelled at for being an ungrateful brat. If he tried to ignore it, he would be a useless little brat who can't think of anyone's feelings but his own. If he walked out to help, he would be butting in and make them feel worse. If he stood there, he would be making it all about himself and would be taking away his Papa's comfort entirely.

He just didn't know what to do.

Another whimpering sob shook him from his thoughts, the flickering flame of anxiety now a roaring wildfire in his ribcage, threatening to shoot up into his throat like a dragon breathing fire on an unsuspecting village. He gulped down against the newly formed lump in his throat, gripping the doorway tighter.

"Jamesy? What are you doing up?" Daddy's voice piped up.

Oh no.

They saw him.

They were going to punish him now.

He clammed up. He just wanted to know why his Papa was crying. Why he was left alone in their bed. Why they were hiding away from him.

Daddy stood up from the couch where he previously had his arms wrapped around the other man, walking towards him in slow, even strides. "Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare too?"

He shrunk behind the door, already terrified for the impending punishment that awaited him.

Wait. Too?

"Wha's goin' on?" Jamesy peeped out, his throat caught in the bear trap of fear and dread.

"It's not for you to worry about, lamb." Daddy sighed, carefully taking his hands from the doorway and leading him back to the bed. "Try to get back to sleep, we'll be back in the room in a minute."

Jamesy didn't want to be bad and disobey, but he really wanted to figure out what was going on more. "Why's Papa cryin'?"

Daddy flinched a little, causing Jamesy to flinch in return, expecting a quick back-hand across his face for speaking out of turn. Instead, Daddy let out a deep sigh from his chest. "Papa had a nightmare, we were talking about it out there to not wake you up."

Jamesy felt awful. Not only did his Papa, one of the only two people they all loved and trusted with their life, have a nightmare that left him crying the way they always left _them_ crying, but now he was actively taking away his comfort by taking away Daddy's attention.

He was so _bad_. What a _rotten_ little boy.

Now he was being selfish and only thinking about his own feelings instead of his Papa's. What a greedy, despicable little brat.

Daddy lifted him back onto the bed, careful to not startle him in his sleepy, half dissociated state. "We'll be back in in a few minutes, lamb, try to get some rest until then." With that, Daddy walked back out to the living room, closing the door behind him.

Jamesy couldn't shake the need to do _something_. His Papa always helped them when they were scared or hurt or sad. He needed to be able to do the same. If he couldn't, what use was he?

Despite his Daddy's direct orders, he crawled back out of the bed, making his way to the door once again.

But if he opened that door, then he would be taking _more_ of Daddy's attention away from Papa, who desperately needed it a lot more than he did.

But if he could try to help, then Papa would get more comfort and care, which would be good. Papa deserved all the comfort and care in the whole _universe_.

But what if he ended up making it worse? What if he made Papa _more_ upset? He couldn't live with himself if he managed to hurt one of the people so close to his heart.

"Jamesy. Back to bed." Daddy sounded angry. He could hear him by the door. If he disobeyed, there was no way he _wouldn't_ get beat black and blue for blatantly going against orders. But if he went back to bed, then Papa would still be sad and he would be useless and would prove how much of a burden he was on them.

He didn't mean to start crying, he _really_ didn't. He didn't want to make it all about him.

He could hear Daddy's footsteps outside the door over his own, quiet whimpers. He scrambled away from the door, tucking into the nearby closet, hoping to avoid any further punishment for his horribly manipulative behavior.

"Jamesy, I didn't mean to scare you. Please come out." Daddy sounded so tired as he stepped through the door. A moment of silence passed. "Lamb, c'mon, I know you're in there."

Jamesy was terrified. He _knew_ Daddy would grab him by the neck and spank him until he bled the second he crawled out of the closet.

"Jamesy, please, I can't deal with this right now. Just go back to bed, okay?" Daddy was annoyed. Daddy was busy trying to help his boyfriend, he didn't have time to deal with a useless brat. He listened as Daddy's footsteps padded back out to the living room, the door closing behind him. He definitely heard Daddy grumble something under his breath like a big, angry bear.

Jamesy couldn't help the sob that clawed it's way out of his chest.

He did so _bad_.


	2. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could see his flight squad to the left of him, the sky around them a deep red, like a setting sun in a thunderstorm. He could recognize Riley's silhouette just beside him, just out of arms reach.
> 
> Please, _no_.

It started with a jolt.

Sam was flying through the air, the wind at his back, the roar of jet engines all that he could hear.

He knew this dream. He knew it all too well.

He could see his flight squad to the left of him, the sky around them a deep red, like a setting sun in a thunderstorm. He could recognize Riley's silhouette just beside him, just out of arms reach.

Please, _no_.

A loud **bang** shot through his skull, followed by the sight of his love, his best friend, plummeting to the murky depths of the world beneath them. He tried desperately to dive down, to save him from his impending demise.

He was always too late.

Sam jolted awake moments before his body hit the ground, his body panicking at the sudden sensation of falling. The gasping ache in his chest was all too familiar.

He was having a panic attack.

"Sam? Sweetheart? you alright?" Steve was awake, leaning over the sleeping body between them. He must have woken him up.

Sam was about to answer 'yes', about to shove all his feelings to the side and focus on helping the other man as to avoid the dread of his own problems setting in.

The words were dead in the water, unable to leave his trembling form.

The next thing he knew, he was being lifted from the bed. Strong, careful arms avoided jostling the body beside him as he was pressed against the other man's chest. He had to remember his breathing, had to remember his grounding techniques.

This wasn't exactly the first time he had woken up with a panic attack. Not by a long shot. He just hated having to focus on his own feelings, focus on the weight of his dread crushing his chest in a vice grip.

If he helped others with their problems, he could shove his own down enough to not have to answer them.

Was it healthy? No.

Did it work? Sometimes.

Was it working in that moment? Hell no.

"Shhh, it's okay, you're safe here." Steve's soft whispers filled his ears, the soft rumble of his chest almost neutralizing the tremble in his own body.

"Steve, I-" His throat closed up as a painful sob was ripped from his chest. All he could see was the face of his first love, the man he couldn't save. " _I let him die._ "

"Sam, you didn't let him die." Steve reassured, rubbing his shoulder as he bit back another sob. "There was nothing you could do, it was out of your control."

How many times had he told that exact same phrase to Steve before they found Bucky? How many times he had said it _after_ they found Bucky?

Sam was about to argue, but the words got caught behind the lump in his throat, resulting in a pathetic whine as he curled in on himself.

He felt as if he was drowning in his own ocean of tears. He gasped for air against the currents.

"I know, I know it hurts," Steve hummed, pulling him impossibly closer to his warm chest. "It's gonna be okay. It wasn't your fault. I know he's watching over you. He doesn't blame you, I'm sure of it."

" _How_ can you be sure of it?" Sam bit out, frustrated with his own emotions. "You weren't there."

"I know I wasn't, but I know that if Riley loved you as much as you love him, then I can guarantee he doesn't want you blaming yourself." Steve argued softly, cupping his cheek with his warm hand. "I know that if he loved you the way you tell me he did, then he _still_ loves you and only wants what's best for you."

Sam couldn't think of a response, his mind far too flooded with the image of his best man's smiling face, the squeak in his laugh that always left his chest feeling full of warm sunlight, his bright grin that could light up all of Manhattan. Those memories were always tainted by the sight of his face twisted in panic, the last time he ever saw his face alive.

He could remember the first time he saw that man smile, the way his stomach flip-flopped at the sight. The thought made the memory of his death all the more painful.

"I'm sorry." Sam choked out against a painful sob. "I'm so _sorry_."

"I know, he already forgave you. He never blamed you to begin with." Steve hummed against his head, rocking him back and forth. "I know he knows how much you love him, how much you miss him, and-" Steve was cut off by something Sam couldn't hear.

"What?" Sam barely managed to squeak out, swiping at his own raw, puffy eyes.

"Jamesy, what are you doing up?" Steve called out softly in the direction of their bedroom door. He didn't even notice the way the door was cracked open just a hair, with two little eyes peeking through in the darkness.

They woke up Jamesy. _He_ woke up Jamesy.

Sam felt _awful_. He didn't want any of them to see him like this, all broken open and vulnerable. They had their own problems to deal with, and the death of his first love was _not_ something he wanted to force Jamesy to think about. His stress was not for a four year old to deal with.

"Hang on," Steve sighed, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, before standing up from the couch. Sam curled up against the warm patch of fabric where he was sitting. His panic had gone down just slightly, but he still couldn't shake the images from his brain. The flashbacks, quick and drowning, would not cease their assault on his soul.

This was punishment. It _had_ to be. He had harmed so many in his service. He let his best friend die. He had made so many wrong choices in his life, long before his time in war. This was karma finally catching up to him.

He knew logically that it wasn't that, that it was his own trauma and his own reaction towards it, but he wasn't exactly in a logical state of mind in that moment.

Steve came back a few moments later, slotting himself back between Sam and the couch cushion.

"'S he okay?" Sam sniffled out, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

"He's fine, probably just woke up from me carrying you." Steve reassured. Sam didn't _quite_ believe that, knowing how easily their little boy could work himself up into a panic, but he was in no position to argue that. He just let himself lean into the other man's chest, relishing in the warm flesh and rhythmic breathing. It was very calming, a balm to his frayed nerves.

He let himself soak in the comfort, focusing on his own breathing and reminding himself that, while Riley was no longer on this plane existence, the impact he left on his life meant that he was never truly gone, and would _never_ be forgotten.

He felt a little better as he sniffled back against fresh tears, the panic slowly dissolving back into his blood.

"Jamesy. Back to bed." Sam was slightly startled by Steve's stern voice. He must have heard the little boy in the other room.

"Steve, he's probably just worried." Sam mumbled, clearing his throat as the post-crying dry feeling began to set in.

"Here, I'll be right back." Steve sighed again, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before padding back towards their room.

Sam listened for the other, but couldn't make out what he was saying in the sound-proofed room. A moment or two passed before Steve made his way back to the couch, sitting down beside him, and pulling him into a tight embrace.

Sam could feel the energy shift. Steve was annoyed. He was being a burden.

"Steve, I'm sorry, we should get back to bed." Sam mumbled, sniffling back against his aftershock.

"No, you're fine. Jamesy's just-" Steve caught himself. Sam couldn't help the sudden anger that flared in his chest.

"Steve, he's probably scared. You know how he gets when-" Sam was cut off.

"This isn't about him, Sam. He can wait a minute." Steve huffed. "You're hurting, I need to help you."

"One, you don't _need_ to help anyone. I'm thankful that you _choose_ to help me." Sam huffed back, set off by his own emotional state mixed with Steve's sudden stubbornness. "Two, just because _I'm_ upset doesn't mean he doesn't have a right to his feelings. He probably woke up from us not being there. Don't make me feel like a burden for taking the comfort you offered."

"I didn't _mean_ to make you feel like a burden!" Steve was on the defensive, his emotions already betraying the mask of strength he wore. "You're hurt, and I love you and want to help you. Bucky's loneliness can wait a second."

Sam caught the error before Steve did.

"Steve. He's not-"

"I know, I _know_. I fucked up, okay?"

"Steve, you need to calm-"

"Sam, this isn't about me-"

"You're going to scare him-"

"You're already scared-"

"I'm doing better, you can-"

"He can wait! I wan't to help you! You never let anyone help you and I'm tired of being useless! I'm tired of only ever being a Daddy!" Steve finally barked back, earning a flinch from Sam. He wasn't expecting the sudden raised voice, the thought of shouting already drudging up more painful flashbacks.

"Shit, Sam, I'm _sorry_. I didn't mean it like that." It was Steve's turn for his emotions and vulnerability to get the best of him. Sam tried to shove down the fresh bloom of panic in his chest, to no avail.

A keening whine from the other room shook them both from their thoughts.

Jamesy heard that.

"I'm gonna go check on him." Sam huffed, standing up from the couch, only for Steve to put his hand out in front of him.

"No, Sam, you're already hurt and scared. I want to help-"

"And _I_ want to help him. I'm my own goddamn person, Steve. I _choose_ when I want to help people, and right now, our kid is sitting alone in his room listening to his daddies fight." Sam huffed, shoving the other man's hand away. "You helped me, and I'm more than grateful for it, but right now there's someone else who needs my help too, since you're _tired_ of if."

It was probably extremely petty of him to bite out those words, but he couldn't help it. He was tired and hurt and now pissed that Steve thought only one of them deserved comfort at a time. He turned around and padded towards the room, not wanting to see the crushed expression on the other man's face that he _knew_ would be staring back at him.

He did so _bad_.


	3. Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve was stuck in yet another nightmare, watching Bucky cling to the ruined train wall for dear life. He tried desperately to reach out to him, his hands just out of reach.
> 
> Please, no.

It started with a jolt.

Steve was stuck in yet another nightmare, watching Bucky cling to the ruined train wall for dear life. He tried desperately to reach out to him, his hands just out of reach.

Please, no.

The echoing screams rang through his head as the man he loved plummeted to the icy depths below, forced to watch the death of his best friend for the millionth time. Always just out of reach.

He awoke with a sharp gasp, already turning to check that Bucky was, in fact, still next to him. His jagged nerves were soothed at the sight of the man sleeping peacefully beside him.

His attention was quickly grabbed, however, by the sight of the other man just one body over, his face screwed in fretful panic. He watched as the man twitched and groaned, softly crying in his sleep.

Sam was having a nightmare, too.

Steve flinched as Sam jolted awake, eyes bright with tears in the dark room. He was gasping for breath, like he was just dropped into sub-freezing waters.

"Sam? Sweetheart? You alright?" Steve carefully reached out for the other man, trying his best to not startle him any further. He felt his heart splinter as the other man turned to him, the flashing neon signs of a panic attack alerting Steve to the other's emotional state.

Steve carefully slipped out of his side of the bed, padding to the man and lifting him, pulling him close to his chest and carrying him to the living room before sitting down, still holding his love close to him.

Steve knew this all too well. Sam had a nightmare about his best friend falling to his death. He knew all too well how horribly that hurt, how it claws at ones sanity. The constant reminder that it was all _your_ fault.

"Steve, I-" Sam gasped through a painful sob. " _I let him die._ "

"Sam, you didn't let him die," Steve hummed as best as he could, stroking the other man's trembling shoulders. "There was nothing you could do, it was out of your control."

Steve had heard Sam tell him that a thousand times, whenever he had woken up screaming Bucky's name. He always had a hard time believing it, seeing as how if he just reached out _just a little farther_ , then his best friend wouldn't be dead.

He _wasn't_ dead, he had to remind himself. Just _different_.

Steve couldn't help but think of a zombie, a reanimated corpse wearing his best friend's face.

He felt awful just _thinking_ about it.

Steve took his time holding Sam close, reminding him that Riley loved him, how he wouldn't want him to blame himself, all of the words that Sam had told him about Bucky when they thought he was dead.

Despite this, he couldn't help the quiet resentment boiling in his blood.

Bucky should have stayed dead.

That was a horrible thing to say!

But it was true. If Bucky had stayed dead, he wouldn't have had to suffer decades of torture, of _violation_. He wouldn't be a walking corpse with too many occupants in one brain.

That's when he heard the whimpers. Bucky had woken up.

Scratch that, Jamesy had woken up.

"Jamesy? What are you doing up?" Steve sighed and excused himself from the other man with a kiss to the top of his head before walking towards the room, only to find Jamesy standing behind the door. He couldn't help but see his best man instead of a frightened four year old. He was exhausted and currently in the middle of helping his boyfriend who was in the middle of a panic attack, sue him.

"Did you have a nightmare too?" Steve prayed he didn't sound as condescending as he thought he did. But the odds were pretty high that all of them managed to have nightmares that night.

"Why's Papa cryin'?" Jamesy piped up. Steve couldn't help his flinch, he really shouldn't have been annoyed by that question as he tried to lead the little boy back to the bed.

"Papa had a nightmare, we were talking about it out there to not wake you up." Steve sighed. Wasn't it obvious? He was grieving the death of his first love and best friend that he would never get back.

Except Sam didn't have a constant reminder of his failure living with him.

"It's not for you to worry about, lamb." Steve sighed, carefully taking the mismatched hands from the doorway and leading the little boy back to the bed. "Try to get back to sleep, we'll be back in the room in a minute."

With that, Steve turned around and made his way back to the couch, pulling Sam into another embrace.

"'S he okay?" Sam sniffled out as he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

"He's fine, probably just woke up from me carrying you." Steve tried his best to reassure the panicking man. He wasn't panicking or crying or begging for help, so he was fine. And even if he was, he could wait his damn turn.

Steve spent the rest of his time focused on his boyfriend, holding him close as he cried and whispering encouragements and reassurance to the best of his abilities. He was never very good at comforting others, but dammit Sam was always there for him and Bucky, so he would be damned if he didn't at least _try_ to return the favor.

That was, until he heard breathing by the door again. Super soldier hearing tends to have its perks.

"Jamesy. Back to bed." Steve didn't mean to sound so irritated, but he was tired and trying to help the other man in his arms. He could already feel himself being spread thin in his emotionally exhausted state. He stood from the couch once more after pressing another kiss to Sam's cheek. By the time he got to the room, Jamesy was nowhere to be seen. He could hear stifled breathing from the closet beside the door. Why was he so scared that he felt the need to hide from his 'Daddy'?

He must have sounded like his old 'Daddy'. That bastard Pierce.

Steve felt _awful_.

"Jamesy, I didn't mean to scare you. Please come out." Steve sighed, exhausted, as he stepped into the room. A moment of silence passed. "Lamb, c'mon, I know you're in there."

Steve was growing impatient, but he shouldn't take that out on Jamesy. It wasn't his- or _anyone's_ \- fault that he was tired and upset and trying his damnedest to be strong for what little family he had left. "Jamesy, please, I can't deal with this right now. Just go back to bed, okay?"

Another moment of silence passed and Steve gave up, grumbling an exhausted 'whatever' under his breath as he made his way back to the man on the couch who needed him. He had already failed one too many times, so now he was _determined_ to not fail this too. He sighed as he sat back down on the couch, praying Sam didn't notice his sudden change in mood.

"Steve, I'm sorry, we should get back to bed." Sam mumbled, sniffling from his residual panic.

"No, you're fine. Jamesy's just-" Steve caught himself. He shouldn't blame Jamesy for how he was feeling. He was just a little kid.

'Little kid'. What a sick joke.

"Steve, he's probably scared. You know how he gets when-" Steve didn't mean to cut Sam off.

"This isn't about him, Sam. He can wait a minute." Steve huffed. "You're hurting, I need to help you."

Steve flinched as Sam argued back. "One, you don't _need_ to help anyone. I'm thankful that you _choose_ to help me." Sam huffed out. "Two, just because _I'm_ upset doesn't mean he doesn't have a right to his feelings. He probably woke up from us not being there. Don't make me feel like a burden for taking the comfort you offered."

"I didn't _mean_ to make you feel like a burden!" Steve argued. He really didn't! Sam was his boyfriend and he needed help! He just wanted to help! "You're hurt, and I love you and want to help you. Bucky's loneliness can wait a second."

Sam's offended glare made him realize his mistake far too late.

"Steve. He's not-"

"I know, I _know_. I fucked up, okay?"

"Steve, you need to calm-"

"Sam, this isn't about me-"

"You're going to scare him-"

"You're already scared-"

"I'm doing better, you can-"

"He can wait! I wan't to help you! You never let anyone help you and I'm tired of being useless! I'm tired of only ever being a Daddy!" Steve didn't mean to bark back. He didn't even feel like he was the one shouting those words.

He felt his heart shatter as the man beside him flinched, that all too familiar 'thousand yard stare' betraying the way he had hurt him.

"Shit, Sam, I'm _sorry_. I didn't mean it like that." He had tried so hard to be strong, to help the man who needed him yet still saw him as an equal. He had failed so miserably, his stubborn strength only succeeding in hurting him more.

A keening whine from the other room shook them both from their thoughts.

Jamesy heard that.

I'm gonna go check on him." Sam huffed, standing up from the couch. Steve put his hand out to try and stop him. He didn't want to fail even more.

"No, Sam, you're already hurt and scared. I want to help-"

"And _I_ want to help him. I'm my own goddamn person, Steve. I _choose_ when I want to help people, and right now, our kid is sitting alone in his room listening to his daddies fight." Sam huffed, shoving his hand away. "You helped me, and I'm more than grateful for it, but right now there's someone else who needs my help too, since you're _tired_ of if."

Steve stared as the other man walked to the room, closing the door behind him.

He couldn't help the icy cold dread that filled his guts.

Did he really just say he was _tired_ of being Jamesy's Daddy? Right in earshot of the kid?

He wasn't tired of it, he was just tired of always being a responsible caretaker instead of a boyfriend or some other equal stance.

That was worse. That was so much _worse_.

He should be grateful he had Bucky back in _any_ form. Sam could never get his best friend back. He could guarantee he would sacrifice everything for just a _moment_ to be with him again.

Steve felt like the biggest asshole in the world. He managed to hurt _both_ of his loved ones in less than ten minutes.

He did so _bad_.


	4. When What You See Is What You Lack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn't want anyone to hear how bad he was being. Papa was hurt and it was all his fault that Daddy yelled at him.
> 
> He ruined _everything_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This title's chapter is a line from the movie [Freaky Friday (2003)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=anriDpwH130)

Daddy didn't want to be his Daddy anymore.

Daddy was tired of him.

Daddy _hated_ him.

Jamesy tried so very hard to bite back the sobs that were currently wracking through his body. He didn't want anyone to hear how bad he was being. Papa was hurt and it was all his fault that Daddy yelled at him.

He ruined _everything_.

He was startled into silence at the sound of footsteps walking towards the room. He had already made Daddy and Papa fight, he _really_ didn't want one of them to yell at him too.

Even if he earned it for being such an awful brat.

"Jamesy? Buddy? You in here?" Papa's voice called softly into the room, slightly coarse from crying just a few minutes ago.

He couldn't let Papa comfort him, not while he was still hurting.

Not after he ruined everything for him.

He held his breath, hoping the other would think he left the room. But what if they thought he ran away? Then they would panic and he would be in even _more_ trouble.

No matter what he chose, there was no getting out of his punishment.

He could see Papa's shadow rest in front of the closet door, followed by the sound of him sitting on the soft floor. "Jamesy, I know you're scared. I'm sorry you heard that. Daddy didn't mean any of that, he's just tired."

"'S tired of me." Jamesy whimpered, trying his best to hide the sobs that threatened to spill out of his chest. He really didn't want to get punished for crying and taking away all of the attention from his Papa, who needed comfort more than him.

Even if it was what he deserved.

"No, buddy, he's not tired of you." Papa sighed, carefully moving an open hand towards the closet door's opening. Jamesy didn't take it, far too terrified of being yanked out of his hiding spot and beaten within an inch of his life. "No one is tired of you. Daddy's just upset, people..." He thought for a moment. "People say things they don't mean when they're upset."

Sam thought about his own words. Even _he_ had said things he regretted the moment they fell from his lips. Truly, it wasn't Steve's fault. It wasn't _anyone's_ fault. They were all just having a rough night from nightmares and high-strung emotions.

That didn't give him the right to be petty, nor Steve the right to be a jerk.

"Daddy hates me." Jamesy's tiny voice piped up from the closet door.

"No, no Jamesy. Daddy doesn't hate you, or me, or _anyone_." Sam sighed. Jamesy was so insecure about his place in their relationship as it was, then Steve had to go and say things that would _obviously_ upset him just because he couldn't keep a lid on his own feelings.

But that wasn't fair either. Steve was human, just like him, and just like Jamesy. They were all human, flawed and emotional. Steve tried his best to be strong for him, for _all_ of them.

Sam wanted nothing more than to help his family, even to the point of bottling his own feelings until they exploded just so he wouldn't have to deal with them. Instead, he only succeeded in hurting his family more, making his little boy listen to his only guardians fight. The poor kid would probably be terrified of them forever. He probably ruined the _years_ of recovery and trust-building they had formed in one fell swoop. Jamesy would probably never want to see any of them again, or he'd be asked to leave their relationship with Bucky and Steve.

It was what he deserved.

" _Daddy was helping me feel better after a nightmare, he didn't want you to get upset seeing me scared._ " Sam's voice was quiet as it poured from the other room.

Steve was still sitting on the couch, dumbfounded and hating himself to no end. Sam wanted nothing more than to be forgiven for things that weren't his fault, and he went and fucked it over for everyone.

" _I ruined everything..._ " Jamesy's little voice, cracking and a hair's breadth away from crumpling into sobs, peeped from the room.

Steve made his little boy feel like it was his fault he was yelling. It wasn't _anyone's_ fault, he was just tired and hurting and trying his best to help everyone.

He was never very good at that to begin with, why did he think it would play out any better now? He managed to destroy Jamesy _and_ Sam's trust in him in one fell swoop, all because he couldn't keep his big mouth shut and just hide his emotions like everyone else.

He was the world's biggest jerk, and the world's worst Daddy. He wouldn't be surprised if Jamesy asked Sam to be his Daddy instead.

It was what he deserved.

Jamesy sniffled against a fresh wave of tears. He felt so tired and scared and awful. He just wanted to be held and comforted, but he knew he didn't deserve it.

Sam sighed at the sound of his little boy desperately trying to hide away from him. He felt so tired and scared and awful. He just wanted to hold him and be reminded of how much he trusted him, but he knew he didn't deserve it.

Steve whimpered at the thought of the last little bit of family he had leaving him forever. He felt so tired and scared and awful. He just wanted to hold the both of them and keep them close and make them all feel warm and safe and loved, but he knew he didn't deserve it.

They all felt unworthy of each other's affection. All suffering the same, silent, unknown anxieties.

Steve was the first to break the cycle of self depreciation. He was going to help his family and make up for his short-comings, god dammit. He stood from the couch and carefully made his way into the room, slowly as to not startle the two already in there.

"Sam? Jamesy?" Steve's voice whispered as he stepped into the room. Jamesy froze at the sound, already bracing himself for his inevitable fate of being dragged from the closet and punished for his manipulative behavior. "I want to apologize."

Jamesy wasn't expecting that.

He could hear Daddy sit down beside Papa just outside the door. "I said some pretty awful things earlier, and I'm sorry I hurt both of your feelings. It was uncalled for, especially when both of you were already upset and scared. I was scared too, I woke up from a nightmare and I wanted to try and help instead of taking some time to calm down too. I did nothing to make it better for anyone, and I'm sorry. I want to be able to make it up to you two."

Jamesy thought about his Daddy's words as Papa spoke up. "Steve, you didn't tell me you had a nightmare too. I'm sorry I was petty about what you said. I know you didn't mean it, I was just mad that you said it at all."

"I didn't want you trying to disregard your own feelings to try and help me." Daddy wrapped his arm's around Papa, who leaned into his chest. "You have every right to be mad about what I said. They were a terrible thing to say and I'm sorry."

Jamesy carefully peeked from behind the closet door, his little metal fingers gripping the edge of the doorway. "'M sorry I didn't listen an' took away your attention..."

"No, Jamesy, you didn't do anything wrong." Daddy piped up, opening his arm for the little boy to crawl into the hug-pile. "I shouldn't have gotten mad at you for being worried about your Papa. You care about him and I just as much as we care about you and each other, and it wasn't fair for me to make you feel bad for that. Hell, it probably would've been better if I just let you comfort him too."

"It's in the past, Steve, you can't change it now. The best we can do is to learn from our mistakes and move forward." Papa hummed as Jamesy crawled from the safety of his hiding spot and into their waiting arms, slotting his head against his Papa's chest as his Daddy wrapped his arms around the both of them.

The three of them held one another for what felt like an eternity, listening to each other breathing and soaking up each other's warmth. Comfort and care were not finite resources that had to be distributed and rationed, they were efforts that people worked towards, little actions that people did to help one another instead of tearing them down or leaving them to fend for themselves.

"Steve, look." Sam whispered softly, nodding his head towards the body between them.

Jamesy had dozed off, snuggled tight against Sam's chest. Steve couldn't help the soft chuckle that rumbled out of his chest.

"Poor thing must be exhausted." He sighed, watching as Sam yawned, nuzzling his scruffy cheek against his shoulder. "Looks like you are too. How about we get back to bed, and we can talk about all of this in the morning."

"Sounds like a plan." Sam hummed, already starting to doze against Steve's strong arm. Steve hummed as he carefully lifted his little family into his arms, carrying the two back to their bed and tucking them in before slipping beneath the covers on his own side.

He couldn't help the sense of pride as the two squirmed towards him, two bodies huddled close to him like penguins in a cold, cruel, unforgiving world.

That was the difference between humans and the world, wasn't it?

Steve carefully pressed a soft kiss to each of their heads before draping an arm over the both of them, resting his head on his pillow, and quietly dozing off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Any behaviors related to DID or Autism Spectrum Neurodivergency within this story are based on personal experiences and are not a scientific basis or professional explanation for either DID systems or Autism Spectrum Neurodivergency. No two people, let alone no two systems, are exactly the same.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


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